


Transcendental Gas Stations

by wannabefictionalcharacter



Category: Original Work
Genre: Original Fiction, gas stations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 06:48:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17596475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wannabefictionalcharacter/pseuds/wannabefictionalcharacter
Summary: You know that weird feeling you get when you're at a gas station at three in the morning? That's what this short story is about.





	Transcendental Gas Stations

I stared blankly at the wall, the weight of my emptiness finally settling down on me. I'm in a gas station restroom, in a town that’s not my own. There only thing with life here was this decaying structure. The air feels thick, like muggy water, and the silence deafening. The cashier did not say hello on my way in. Instead only offered an unintelligible grunt and continued reading, I tried to scan for a title on the cover, but instead was left with nothing. The lights flickered here, and it smelled of tobacco, the sign on the front door said no smoking. The wallpaper cracking, and folding over at the corners. The possibly once clear mirror was now hazy, leaving my facial features obscure. It was cold, it felt as if the air was sucking away life instead of granting it. I wondered if I would ever escape this place. I could begin to feel the tingling under my skin, begin to hear my heartbeat rush, the sound was thunderous. The continuous flow of blood pumping in my ears, it made me dizzy. My vision blurry, my hands gripping the edge of the sink to make sure I don't fall, my knuckles white from squeezing to hard. I let my head fall taking in a few deep breaths  
. When I looked up I wasn't in the same room. The walls were darker now, and the room bare, no door. The only object still in the room was the mirror, the same foggy, square mirror.


End file.
